


A Series of Farewells

by PeaceHeather



Series: Merlin fics [12]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, I Made Myself Cry, Post-Battle of Camlann, Post-Canon, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 23:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21225854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: As the years go by after Arthur's death, Merlin says goodbye to everyone he's known and loved, one by one, until only he remains.





	A Series of Farewells

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I pretty much only write fix-it fics, and here along comes this sad plot bunny that won't leave me alone. I think it's a prelude to another fic I want to write, but it works as a standalone and I don't know when I'll get time to write the next installment, so here you are.
> 
> I'm sorry for the feels, mostly. (Authors bathe in reader tears, it keeps our skin fresh and youthful.)

After Arthur, Gaius was the first to go.

It was his time, he was old, and he insisted that he was ready, as his body failed him and his breath grew weak. His mind remained sharp to the very end, and he told Merlin how proud he was of him.

"Despite all my failures?" Merlin said.

"Every man experiences failures in his life," whispered Gaius. "Even you. It makes you human. Don't forget that."

Another tear dripped from the end of Merlin's nose, and he sniffed wetly. "I won't," he said. "I'll miss you."

"I will watch over you always. Until the turning of the Wheel." His hands, spotted and feeble with age, nevertheless squeezed Merlin's with just a little more strength.

"The turning of the wheel? What does that mean?"

But Gaius only smiled at him, and closed his eyes. Merlin had sat vigil with families before, as the physician's apprentice and later as the Court Physician himself after Gaius retired, so he knew what to watch for; the slowing heartbeat, the breath that would stop and then start again as the body weakened, struggling to remain alive just a moment longer… all the processes of death that came to anyone who was fortunate enough to die without violence.

Merlin sat holding his hand for the entire night, and when Gaius's chest fell and no longer rose, he felt the old man's soul depart. Merlin whispered a spell, little more than a prayer of the Old Religion, one of the only ones whose meaning he fully understood: "_In sibbe gereste_," as his eyes flared gold.

Rest in peace.

* * *

Of Arthur's original knights, only Leon and Percival remained. Leon threw himself into his duty to the kingdom, serving as first knight and then, later, as the queen's consort. He smiled rarely, and spoke softly, but he was a rock upon which all the chaos of the world could break, leaving only stillness behind. He and Merlin were never quite close enough to be friends, in the years that followed, but Merlin was never sure if it was because Leon was uneasy around a sorcerer, or because Merlin couldn't forgive himself for failing Leon's king.

Leon remained first knight for longer than he should have, in Merlin's opinion, unwilling to retire and find himself with little other purpose. He led the defense against a border incursion from Bayard's youngest son, and while Camelot's knights returned home victorious, Leon himself had been just that fraction of a second too slow to stop a younger man's sword. His body was returned to the citadel and his funeral was held with all the dignity and ceremony that the queen's consort deserved. The queen herself spoke, and shed a few tears in public, but reserved most of them for evenings when she had privacy.

Merlin did not weep; he ached, feeling that here was another man he could have saved if only he'd been there, but the fountain of his tears had been spent on Arthur and the last of them on Gaius, years before. All he could feel was yet another regret, added to the burden he already carried that ate at his soul.

* * *

Percival had only come to Camelot at Lancelot's side, and befriended Gwaine once he'd come. There were whispers that the two of them had had something more, had _been _something more, but if that were true, Percival never said. Merlin only knew that after Lancelot and Gwaine both were gone, Percival was an even quieter man than he'd been before. A gentle giant, but a largely silent one.

One day word reached the queen of a magical artifact that was said to bestow the blessings of the Old Religion on any who held it, and that it could only be found by someone pure of heart. Some kings coveted it, greedy for the power it held, and sent knights of their own to find it. While many rumors surfaced as to its whereabouts, none of the foreign knights who had gone after the mysterious artifact had returned unscathed.

"I don't know whether I'm pure of heart, Your Majesty," said Percival, "but with your permission, I would seek this 'holy grail', if only to keep if out of the hands of those who would misuse it." It was the most he'd spoken at the council table in years, and the younger lords and knights stared at him.

Guinivere studied his face, too, and Merlin wasn't sure if she saw the same thing he did, but when she gave her blessing, it was with a note of resignation in her voice that, perhaps, only Merlin noticed.

Percival prepared for his journey, said his farewells, and departed Camelot within the week. He was never seen again.

* * *

Now that Camelot was at peace, the queen gave Merlin leave to travel more often, and he visited his mother every chance he got. Hunith refused to come and live in Camelot—"What would I do there, my son?" she would counter, every time he offered—but he made sure she never wanted for anything. Neither cold nor hunger would ever touch her again, if he could help it, and he could. She lived a long, full life, her hair growing whiter and her back more stooped, but even when cataracts stole her eyesight, she smiled as brightly as she had when she was young whenever Merlin came to visit.

"Ah, my bright boy," she would say, "star of my eye," and stroke his cheek. He was bearded now, and his hair grew past his shoulders, streaked with gray, but he still stood tall and strong, and his hands did not shake when he tended his patients. They shook now, though, as he reached within her with his magic and perceived how close she was to the end of her span on earth.

"I'm sorry you don't have grandchildren," he said to her, apropos of nothing, and she laughed.

"They would have been nice," she admitted, "but I'm not one to harp on about having them from a man who does not want children of his own."

"It isn't that I don't want them… I like them well enough, but…" He trailed off, feeling the regret rise once more within him.

"But there's never been anyone who captured your heart," she finished for him. "Not since Arthur."

Merlin shut his eyes. "It wasn't… it was never like that, between us," he said haltingly. "Not like—not like you mean."

"I know, my darling." She patted his hand, turning her face to catch the last rays of the setting sun. "Anyway, I wouldn't be so selfish as to want grandchildren for myself. I only wish you weren't so alone, now that Arthur is gone."

"Arthur's been gone a long time," said Merlin quietly.

"But it still hurts your heart, after all these years."

"Yes," he confessed. "I think it always will."

He stayed a little longer that visit, a full month, feeling something like the ebbing of a tide as Hunith's time drew near. She was still hale despite her years, still insisted on kneading her own dough even if she had to have the neighbor's youngest daughter measure the ingredients for her, now that she could not see. Still insisted on sweeping the floor of the hut that she had helped build.

They were walking through the garden together, laughing about nothing, she and Merlin and Suzette, the neighbor's daughter, when Hunith stopped and put a hand on her chest.

"What is it, Mother?"

"Oh," said Hunith, an expression of surprise on her face. And then she collapsed, like a puppet with its strings all cut at once.

"Mother!"

She weighed as little as a bird as Merlin swept her up in his arms and bore her inside, laying her out on her bed. He collapsed on his knees beside her, reaching for her hands and squeezing tightly. Her eyes were still open, her breathing shallow and quick. Her heart raced, the pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. "Mother please, not now, not yet…"

"Hush, my bright boy," she gasped. "It's my time. I can feel it."

"I can too," he admitted. "But I'm not ready."

At this, Hunith laughed breathlessly. "Neither am I. I don't know that anyone ever is. No matter what they say."

"Mother—"

"I'm sorry, my little falcon. Star of my eye. I love you so much. I hate to go." Her milky eyes darted sightlessly back and forth, seeming to see right through Merlin as she turned her head toward him.

"I love you too, Mother. Don't be sorry. I'll be all right. I'm not ready, but I'll be all right."

"Promise me?" she asked. "Promise me you'll be all right."

Merlin thought his heart had already broken once, years ago, but he felt what was left crack open anew. "I promise."

She smiled brilliantly then, showing hints of the young woman she had once been. "Then I am content." Her smile turned into a gasp, and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, it's so beautiful," she said. "I can see it. I can see it all."

"Mother?"

"It's so beautiful," she whispered. She smiled again, an expression of purest wonder on her face. "Balinor?"

"Mother? Mother, what do you see?"

"I love you, my son," she said, gazing at something only she could see. She squeezed his hand one last time. "_We _love you. I'm ready now. I love you, Merlin. I love—"

Merlin felt a rushing sensation, then, like a cleansing wind though the air was still. He shut his eyes, gasping for breath himself.

When he opened them, Hunith's eyes were still open wide, but her expression had gone slack with death. The corners of her mouth remained upturned, still showing the faintest hint of the wonder and delight she had seen at the end.

* * *

Gwen—Guinevere—ruled wisely and well for two decades beyond that. Her son was kind and intelligent, and when he turned thirty, she abdicated peacefully, saying to the people, "Camelot is in good hands."

To Merlin, in private, she said, "How long have I got?"

No one else but he and her son knew that she had begun to forget things, and that only the day before she had looked at her son and called him by her brother's name. There were perhaps one or two other advisers who might have been observant enough to see it as well, but if there were, they had never said anything, and seemed now perfectly content to be ruled by the son as by the mother.

"How long do you want?" asked Merlin carefully.

"That's not an answer!"

Merlin sighed. "It's… no one really understands how senility works. Some people, it comes on quickly, others slowly. Some grow violent or angry as they forget who they used to be, others are quiet, or afraid. Some seem unaware of what they are losing, others…"

"Others know," said Guinevere. "_I_ know."

"Yes," said Merlin.

"Can your magic…?"

"I could stave it off for a while, I think," said Merlin. "I'm not really sure. The brain, the mind, they are so delicate."

"Can you give me a year?" she asked, and Merlin looked at her sadly. Her dark curls had gone bright as the steel in her father's forge, and wrinkles at her eyes and the corners of her mouth told the tale of a life spent in both laughter and sorrow. Her frame was thin but not stooped; her hands that had once embroidered finery were gnarled with arthritis, but had still worn Arthur's signet until only a few days prior, when she had passed it on to her son.

"I think I can do that," said Merlin.

* * *

A year later, she summoned Merlin to her chambers; once, long ago, they had been occupied by Morgana. (Even though her son lived in them now, Merlin never went to Arthur's former chambers, if it could be helped.) He entered when she bade him, and found the queen writing in a book. She blew on the ink to dry it, then closed the cover with a nod of finality.

"It's time," she said.

"My lady?"

"Don't call me that, Merlin," said Guinevere, though she was smiling. "I'm not queen anymore."

"Sorry." Merlin nodded, hiding his hands in the sleeves of his robe. "Time for what?"

Gwen licked her lips, but met his gaze steadily. "I want you to take me to wherever you sent Arthur's body, and I want you to send me to join him."

Merlin's breath caught. "My la—Gwen. Are you sure?"

"Yes." She paused, then admitted, "I want to see him again before I forget who he was."

Merlin couldn't blame her; he'd felt the same for many years now, after all. Even so, "You're asking me to kill you."

"Your healer's oath allows you to end a person's suffering if they wish it, doesn't it? Well, I wish it. I can feel your magic in me, Merlin, keeping me together, and I know that one day it won't be enough. One day soon. The decline… it will go quickly after that. I don't want—that's not how I want to end," she said, looking away. "At least let me live out my final days with dignity."

Merlin swallowed, aching once more, but nodded. "I'll need a day or two to prepare. There are potions… I can—I can make it painless. You'll fall asleep, and simply not wake."

There was a shiver hidden in Gwen's breath, but her voice was steady as she replied, "That will be acceptable. And Merlin," she added as he turned to go, "…thank you."

Merlin couldn't reply, his throat too tight, so instead he bowed without looking at her, and shut the door quietly behind him.

* * *

They rode together, escorted by knights whose names Merlin no longer bothered to learn; all of them seemed so young to him, little better than children. None of them had ever known Arthur, although of course they'd heard stories. They kept a respectful distance, and their eyes to the trees, but Camelot had been at peace for decades now and there were no bandits to be found.

Gwen was smiling, an old woman wrapped in dignity, reminiscing about her younger days with Merlin. He answered her as best he could, filling in gaps in her memory or telling her about his own adventures with Arthur, but it was hard to be as happy as she seemed, when he knew he would be saying goodbye to her as well. They hadn't told the knights.

Finally they reached the edge of the wood, and Merlin stopped the group. "Make camp here," he told the knights. "My lady wishes to pay her respects in private."

Two of them helped Guinevere down from her palfrey, and she winced a little at the ache in her joints, but was still smiling. "Thank you, Hector," she said. "Bors."

"Do you require assistance through the woods, my lady?" asked one of them.

"Merlin will assist me. There's no need for you young people to listen to the ramblings of an old woman, after all."

"If we're not back by sunset," said Merlin, trailing off.

"We'll come to look for you then," said the knight.

She and Merlin walked slowly, Gwen leaning on his arm. "I fancied you once," she said.

Merlin blinked, surprised. "Really?"

"You were kind," said Gwen. "I remember when we first met, you were in the… in… what are they called?" She held her hands up and out to either side and ducked her head, miming the position. "For drunkards and miscreants."

"The stocks?"

"Stocks, yes. And you told me you were in disguise."

"Well, I was," said Merlin, forcing a smile.

"Yes," said Gwen. "A secret hero."

Merlin's smile fell. "I was no hero, my—Gwen."

"You saved Camelot countless times," she retorted. "Saved Arthur. Saved me. You forget, you've told me all your adventures now. I may not always remember things like what the stocks are called, but I do remember you, Merlin."

"You're the only person left who does," he said sadly. "Everyone else from our younger days… they're all gone. It's only you and me, now."

"And soon it will be only you. I know. I'm sorry for that, Merlin," she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. He brushed his thumb over her swollen knuckles. "You were a dear friend to me and to Arthur, when we needed you. You're a dear friend now, too."

"I'll miss you, Gwen. All of Camelot will miss you."

"No, all of Camelot will miss the dowager queen. You and Henri will miss _me_, properly me. And I feel as though only you will miss all of me. Henri will miss his mother, of course he will, but… he never knew all of me. Not like you did."

"I suppose you're right," said Merlin, wanting to protest but not knowing what to say.

"No one ever told us that growing old would be so lonely," she mused, and Merlin shut his eyes. "Have I thanked you yet, for doing this for me?"

"You have," said Merlin.

"Well, I'm thanking you again."

Merlin smiled sadly, opening his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you," he said again.

"I know. Will we be able to watch over you, do you think?"

"I don't know. I like to think so." Would it be less lonely to imagine them following his journey, or more so, knowing that he could never see or join them? "Here," he said, stopping them at the edge of the lake. "This is the place." He could still feel the echo of his grief, reverberating faintly… or perhaps that was only his imagination. But he knew that he was standing on the exact spot where he'd put Arthur's body in the boat, and sent it away where he could not follow. And now he'd do the same for Gwen.

Maybe it wasn't an echo after all.

"It's beautiful," said Gwen, stepping up beside him and watching the birds swoop low over the water. "This is a good place to die."

Merlin's throat closed in sorrow, and he was unable to speak for a long moment. He swallowed twice, three times, before the ache went away and he could say, "According to legend, no mortal may look upon Avalon, and live. But it is beautiful."

"More beautiful than this?"

One corner of his mouth quirked up sadly. "I wouldn't know."

Gwen nodded, and smiled, and then to his surprise she kissed him, on the mouth. Her lips were soft and dry, and she smelled of the light powders and perfumes favored by the elderly. Gentle lavender.

"I did fancy you," she said. "I know you don't believe me."

"I do believe you, I just… never knew." He tipped his head and studied her eyes, still bright despite her age. "You always loved so freely."

"And you loved so deeply." He started to shake his head, but she stopped him. "You loved Arthur."

"No. No, it was never like that—"

"That doesn't mean he didn't fill your whole heart, Merlin." She smiled again. "I'm not accusing you of anything, my dear friend. I'm only saying what is true. You loved him."

Merlin took a shaking breath, blinking back the tears he'd thought were dried up long ago. "I love him still."

"I know." She reached up then, and caressed his face, which was nearly as wrinkled as hers. "I'm sorry to leave you, and I'm even sorrier to know that I will see him before you will. But I'm so glad that you're willing to do this for me, if only out of your love for Arthur."

"Oh, Gwen…" sighed Merlin, and then they were embracing, she holding him as fiercely as her strength would allow, he holding her gently, for she was old and fragile and delicate now, and he didn't want to hurt her, not for anything in the world.

Eventually she pulled away and he let her, and she looked up into his eyes. "I'm ready," she said. "What do I need to do?"

He looked, and a boat was already coming to the shore to bear her away. Merlin's lip quivered, but he took a breath to steady himself. "I'll lie you down in that boat," he said, directing Gwen's gaze toward it, "and give you the potion. I've mixed it with honey and mint. It shouldn't taste too bad."

"And you said I will sleep and simply not wake?"

"I'll make sure of it," said Merlin. "On my oath as a physician. I won't allow you to suffer."

"Thank you, Merlin. Dear friend."

Merlin nodded, speechless, and helped her into the boat. With a gesture, he conjured piles and piles of forget-me-nots to surround her, and sweet grasses, and daisies. The flowers of her youth, rather than the fancy, delicate roses and lilies gifted to her as queen. They made a soft bed for her to lie on, and as he helped her back, their delicate scent filled the air around her.

Gwen looked up at him, trusting, and Merlin nearly couldn't do it. He was reminded for a horrible moment of Morgana, and how she had trusted him; but Gwen, he knew, realized exactly what was about to happen to her. "I'm ready," she said again, reaching out to take his hand.

"I'm not sure I am," Merlin admitted.

"I'm sorry."

"No," said Merlin, getting hold of himself once more. "No, don't be. Here," he said, pulling the little vial out of his pocket and tugging at the stopper.

Gwen's hand was steady as she took it, and she kept her eyes on him the entire time as she drank it down.

"Does it take effect quickly?" she asked.

"A few minutes."

"Keep me company?"

"Gwen, I'm not about to leave you now."

"Then tell me a story," she requested. "One of your adventures with Arthur. Something silly."

"Something silly…"

"So I'll have something to tell him when I see him again," said she.

With tears in his eyes, he launched into the story of the goblin that had gotten loose in the castle, and the mischief it had caused, and how Merlin had been unable to resist leaving Arthur with a donkey's bray even after he'd set everything else to rights. Gwen listened raptly, giggling like a young girl in all the right places, even as her eyes slipped shut and her breathing went slow and deep. Merlin didn't stop his story until she had been asleep for a few minutes. With one trembling hand, he caressed her white hair and smoothed it away from her face.

"_Swefe nu_," he whispered, guiding her into even deeper slumber. Then he spoke the spell to increase a medicine's strength and efficacy, making certain that the potion he'd just given her would be fatal. He rested his fingers at her throat and her wrist, feeling her pulse slow, and then flutter, and then stop.

Tears blurred his vision, as he felt her soul depart. Just as he had felt it with Gaius, and with his mother. Gwen was gone.

"Goodbye, Gwen," he whispered, as tears dripped into his beard. "_In sibbe gereste_."

Aching, he stood, and pushed the boat a little way into the water. Then, with his magic, he reached for the gate of Avalon and beckoned it open. He could never go there, but he could come closer than any mortal ever could and still survive.

The boat glided smoothly and silently across the water, into a rising mist, and then was gone.

* * *

Merlin stood there, ankle deep in the water, for perhaps another hour, simply honoring Gwen and remembering her. Remembering everyone that he had loved and lost, over the long course of his life. Hoping that Gwen's beliefs were correct and that she was with Arthur now, since he could not be. Wondering if they were watching over him as they all had promised they would.

Finally, as the sun began to set, he rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, and removed the aging spell he'd put on himself, decades ago.

When he heard the knights coming through the woods, calling and laughing to themselves, he turned, stepped out of the water, and walked away before they could see him. Behind him, their voices fell silent, and then rose again in concern as they failed to find their dowager queen and the old court physician, but Merlin did not once look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to [follow me on Tumblr](http://peaceheather.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


End file.
